


Before the Ink Even Dries

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [6]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Hostage Situations, Whump, shiv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: Prompt No 6. PLEASE….“Get it Out” | No More |“Stop, please”After everything that happened with Nicholas Endicott, after finally gettingproofthat Martin has been gaslighting Malcolm for over twenty years, Malcolm knows Gil isn't keen on letting him visit Martin alone, anymore. So when their newest case requires the insights of one Martin Whitly, Gil insists that he'll be joining them for the visit.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947595
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Before the Ink Even Dries

After everything that happened with Nicholas Endicott, after finally getting _proof_ that Martin has been gaslighting Malcolm for over twenty years, Malcolm knows Gil isn't keen on letting him visit Martin alone, anymore. So when their newest case requires the insights of one Martin Whitly, Gil insists that he'll be joining them for the visit.

Malcolm...doesn't mind.

They discuss it at length and decide, together, that this will be Malcolm's final visit to his father. That they will rely on all of the other — less psychopathic — resources at the NYPD's disposal going forward.

Malcolm is torn at first, hesitant to cut off all contact with Martin. Frankly, though, Gil's been more of a father to him than Martin ever was, so it doesn't feel quite as much like being orphaned as he was expecting.

As for saying goodbye by Martin, having Gil's steadying presence at his side makes Malcolm feel just a little bit calmer. Makes his hand tremble just a little bit less.

Not that he'll ever admit it. To anyone. Ever.

So as the door opens to Martin's cell — in Rikers still, now that Endicott's no longer pulling the strings of the justice system — and Martin's saccharine voice floats to Malcolm, he takes a breath and looks to Gil for reassurance, the warm look in the man's eyes reminding Malcolm that he's doing the right thing. 

"Malcolm, my boy!" Martin grins, but the smile fades away slowly as he notices Gil behind him. "And you brought company. How...nice."

"Doctor Whitly," Malcolm acknowledges his father with a curt nod. He hasn't seen the man in months and doesn't particularly want to be there now. "The NYPD requires your assistance with a case."

"The NYPD, hmm?" Martin smirks knowingly. "You sure you didn't just want a visit with dear old dad, Malcolm? You know you're welcome here any time." Martin makes a sweeping motion that encompasses his cell, a 'mi casa es su casa' gesture that has Malcolm gritting his teeth. "Though, if I'm being perfectly honest, I would prefer to visit without a chaperone next time."

The glare he shoots at Gil would leave a lesser man withering but Gil stands tall, returning Martin's glower with one of his own, equal in intensity if not in murderous intent. 

"Are you willing to help us or not?" Malcolm clenches his fist at his side, a feeble attempt to quell the tremors that doesn't fool any of them.

"Of course, my boy. I'm always here where you need me," Martin says softly, sounding so sincere that Malcolm almost believes him. _Wants_ to believe him.

And hates himself for it.

He also suspects that Martin somehow _knows_ that this is goodbye.

But he pushes through because lives are on the line, and because this will be a farewell visit, even if Martin hasn't been made expressly aware of that fact. He explains the case and lays the folder out on the table for his father to read. The three men fall into a thorough and insightful conversation about the new killer and the sociopathy he displays with the method of murder and staging of the scenes. Gil stands next to the desk as Martin pours over the crime scene photos, and Malcolm, as per usual, ends up pacing the floor of the much smaller cell.

It's while Malcolm is on the other side of the room that Martin makes his move.

"Lieutenant," Martin says, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice, "Did your crime scene technicians flag this as evidence?" 

Gil leans in, just a little, to catch sight of what Martin is pointing at, and that's all the leeway Martin needs. He jerks to his feet, grabbing hold of Gil's head and slamming it, _hard_ , against the desk. Blood immediately gushes all over the file, the desk, and the floor from Gil's broken nose.

By the time Malcolm realizes what's happening, Martin has pulled a jagged piece of metal with a ripped up sheet as a handle from beneath his desk, and has grabbed hold of the stunned Lieutenant, dragging him into his waiting arms.

Martin spins Gil around and wraps his left arm beneath Gil's, circling it around the Lieutenant to grab hold of his right shoulder, leaving Gil's back pressed tight to Martin's chest. In Martin's right hand, he holds the makeshift shiv directly against Gil's jugular.

"Ah, ah, ah," Martin warns as Malcolm takes a step forward, whether to call for help or step in to break them up, not even Malcolm himself knows, but he freezes at the warning either way. "As you well know from our anatomy lessons all those years ago — and really, Malcolm, those are some of my fondest memories of your childhood; you and me, together in my workroom, learning exactly how the human body functions —" Martin actually smiles softly as he reminisces, causing bile to snake its way up Malcolm's esophagus. "Well, you know that slicing through the good Lieutenant's jugular will most certainly spell the end of your heartwarming relationship."

Martin presses the shiv harder against Gil's throat, enough to break the skin and draw a pearl of blood which slowly inches down Gil's throat. The unusual combination of fear and resignation on Gil's face breaks Malcolm's heart and causes his voice to crack, sticking in his throat as he begs, "Stop. Please."

"Oh, Malcolm," Martin says, disappointment colouring the two simple words. "Lieutenant Arroyo has been poisoning your mind against me for years. Keeping us apart. All I want is for us to be together. Like we used to be. Martin and Malcolm, the Whitly boys, thick as thieves."

Malcolm holds his hands out in front of him, a sign that he isn't a threat as much as a humble plea to stand down. His entire body is on high alert, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making his heart beat double time and his breath come out just a little too fast.

"We can have that," Malcolm says as calmly as he can manage, taking half a step towards Martin. "I can come visit like I used to. Before...everything. Before Quantico."

Honestly, Malcolm would agree to anything right now, would sell his goddamn soul to the devil himself, if it meant freeing Gil from his father's grasp.

By this point, guards have gathered outside the door, but Malcolm keeps them from bursting into the cell with a few terse orders before turning back to Martin, who is...crying?

"I'm sorry, Malcolm, for everything I've put you through," Martin says, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Maybe it's time to atone for my sins, to pay for my misdeeds."

Malcolm knows something is wrong, can feel it down to the marrow of his bones, but can't quite place it.

Until Martin shoves Gil away and brings the shiv to his own wrist, cutting clean through the delicate skin, loudly stating, "God spoke to me, my boy, and he told me this is how I must repent."

The guards rush in, pushing Martin to the ground and kicking away the weapon before cuffing his hands behind his back, even as one of the guards applies pressure to the wound to keep the blood from flowing.

The cut, Malcolm sees just before the guard covers it with a piece of cloth, is about an inch and a half up from the pulse point, where the radial artery runs quite a bit deeper below the skin. Malcolm's eyebrows crease as he considers that his father would certainly know that the most effective way to end his life would have entailed a deep cut up the long axis of his arm, not a short, horizontal laceration. 

The look on Martin's face, a look especially for Malcolm that cuts through the pandemonium of the room around him, confirms it.

His father wasn't trying to kill himself, or even Gil, for that matter. He was ensuring he'll receive a psychological evaluation.

Which he'll make sure to fail with flying colours.

Martin Whitly will be back in Claremont Psychiatric before the ink even dries on his transfer papers. Exactly like he wants. 

And Malcolm is beginning to understand that he'll never _truly_ be free of this man. Because Martin Whitly always gets what he wants.

And what Martin wants more than anything else…is Malcolm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to Kate for the beta


End file.
